The Last Chance
by time is a waste of life
Summary: Is there really a place in this world willing to accept the rejects of society? The kids nobody wants? The kids who were given worthless lives to begin with, and then screwed them up even more?
1. The Last Chance

This is a re-posting a story I started last summer that never got off its feet for various reasons. I'm changing tons in the original story line and all that.

DISCLAIMER: I get paid a buck more than Alaskan minimum wage……….there's no way I could afford the Newsies, therefore, I don't own them. And if you recognize anything else, it's probably accidental, because I own nothing.

STORY TIME!

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"It's you last chance," said the social worker. He was sitting in his office with a 16-year-old boy. Short, standing about 5'7" the boy had long black hair with blue streaks that was parted to the side and swept across the right side of his face. The longest parts reaching well past his chin, the shortest right above his ears. He had 9 piercings on his left ear, two rings and an industrial on his right, three on his left eyebrow, two lip piercings on the right side, and five more piercings that were covered by his tight black jeans and faded orange shirt bearing the name Sid Vicious. He slouched back in his chair and effortlessly held a smirk upon his young face. His appearance alone was enough to make most respectable citizens ferry their children over to the other side of the street and shake their heads in disapproval.

"What happens if I screw it up?" asked the boy.

"Juvenile hall until your 20," answered the boy's social worker.

"20, what the hell! Is that even possible, your a damn adult when your 18!" the boy exclaimed, leaning across the desk in outrage.

"The court ordered for you to be in certified care until your 20," the social worker said, having lost all patience with this boy long ago.

"What about when Dax gets out?"

"Your brother does not count as certified care."

So, it was decided. Bristol would be sent to Thornhill's Children's Academy for Free Thinking. He drove with his social worker to out his locker in the school he'd just been expelled from and retrieved his things from the last foster home on the east coast willing to give him a chance. All together, he had a trash bag full of clothes, a worn out skateboard, and a black messenger bag covered in patches and pins, holding everything else he owned and cared for.

They began the long drive towards Thornhill in silence. After about an hour, Bristol looked at his social worker and asked,

"So, tell me about this shithole yer taking me to again?"

"It's a school desinged to provide social stability, while allowing you to use free thinking and focus it into positive energy," he recited as if reading a brochure.

"Positive energy, what the hell?"

"Think artsy."

"Fantastic," Bristol said sarcastically, "There a lot of kids there?"

"About 15 such as your self," the social worker began to answer

"Fuck-ups then?" cut in Bristol

"Yes," sighed the middle-aged man "and then the people who run the school, the Mixners, have about 10 children attending the school. The whole extended family lives there."

"10 kids, that's sick." Bristol said, before turning on his headphones, drowning out all sound with the genius music of Thursday blasting into his ears, pushing his Chuck clad feet into the dashboard.


	2. The Mixners

IMPORTANT: Please read AN at end of chapter for important (well, at least semi-important) information on the Casting Call!

Disclaimer: Newsies Not Mine………and also, I'm sure every one knows this but just so there's no confusion, many of the Newsies have slightly altered appearances due to the fact that this story is set in modern times.

NOW ENJOY!

A blue-eyed girl with shoulder length blonde hair that had white and red streaks watched a Mercedes drive up the gravel pathway from her spot under a large tree. She was sitting cross-legged, headphones blaring, throwing up a marble and absent-mindedly catching it. She saw a man get out of it and walk into the main house. A few minutes later she noticed two children, about 10 years old, peering into the car. She got up from her spot, and walked towards the car.

"Split, Bean!" She called, "Get away from there." The children quickly obeyed. Inside the car she saw a boy, he was lying back in the seat, his feet on the dashboard, and smoking a cigarette. He didn't notice her, and she could hear his music through the window that was cracked. The boy's eyes suddenly snapped open, and for a second, the two sets of blue locked, and almost seemed to gaze into each other's souls. Then without saying a word, the girl walked off.

She went into her cabin, shared by all girls attending the school. She found only two people in it.

"Hey Bookey" said her older sister, who was sitting on her bed, with her current male interest, Skittery.

"Hey Scamley" said Roan. "You're not supposed to be in here." She said sarcastically to Skittery.

"Shut it Bookey." He said back.

"I'm guessing I interrupted a make-out session, so I'll make it quick." She said, to two 17-year-old kids who were now putting all their attention on her. Scamley, her sister, looked a lot like her. Her hair was longer, reaching her mid back. Her hair was the one part of her body she doted upon. It was slightly wavy and swirled down her back in a series of light blonde layers. The two girls were the same height standing about 5'6". Scamley however had a slighter build than her little sister, often causing people to mistake her as the younger one, if they weren't mistook as twins to begin with. Scamley had always been the prettier of the two, carrying a mysterious, wispy beauty. While Bookey was lately finding out though that boys seemed to pay a little too much attention to her chest, an area that her sister was lacking in. Skittery was tall and skinny, but not scrawny, and had a brown wavy mop of hair. He had only been at the academy for a couple months, and Scamley had become his saving grace. Last week she'd even made him genuinely smile, a feet someone hadn't accomplished in a very long time.

"We got a new kid. A boy, looks punk, hardcore," stated Bookey.

"You get his name?" asked Skittery.

"Is he hot?" asked Scamley.

Scamley's comment made Skittery give her a dark look, and she just laughed.

"Yeah, he's damn hot," answered Bookey, "its Bristol Conlon."

"Bristol Conlon?" Skittery, who was usually fairly quiet exclaimed. The Conlon's were a pretty famous family. JD's around the country looked up to them.

"Course he's hot if he's a Conlon!" Exclaimed Scamley

"So yeah" said Bookey "Figured you kids could spread the word, I'm going to go make sure Jack doesn't tear him up too much." And with that she grinned at the two older kids, who were still a little shocked by the good news.

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"Bristol, PLEASE don't smoke in my car! For the millionth time!" Said the exasperated social worker. He had come out of the huge house, disturbing Bristol, who fixed him with one of his most evil glares. The social worker had come to take him inside and meet his new guardians. Bristol didn't say anything, and just followed the man inside.

"Bristol, this is Jeremiah Mixner. He is the head of the family. And this is his son Henry and Henry's wife Diana, they started the school, and will be your legal guardians. And this here is Brian Denton, he will be your new social worker."

Bristol was sitting in a room with the four adults just mentioned, and his current social worker. Passing through the living room on the way in he'd already seen about 5 kids.

"So, your gonna leave me too, huh?" Said Bristol, in regards to his social worker.

"Oh all of the children here have Mr. Denton as a social worker." Said Diana. She had one of those light airy voices, it annoyed Bristol.

Bristol just continued to scowl and be silent while the adults discussed his life. He was used to it. After what seemed like 20 years, a boy was called into the room. He looked about 17, and was introduced as David Mixner, son of Diana and Henry. (yes, David Jacobs, David Mixner, Davey the walking mouth, all equal same dude) He was to show Bristol around the grounds, and introduce him to people. The rules were also explained. Bristol was pretty much allowed free range, if he didn't come to meals, he had to figure out food for himself, and he had to be in by 10 o clock unless he had made previous arrangements. The better his behavior was, the more privileges he got, supposedly. Now, this place might not sound so bad, however, Bristol was used to big cities, gangs, living on his own, the works, and even though everyone here seemed nice enough, he was certainly not at all happy to be there.

The first place David took him was to his cabin. As far as buildings went, there were six different cabins, the main house, a barn, and the "activities complex." There was a girls cabin, a boy's cabin, Jeremiah and Granny's cabin, two guest cabins, and Albert (Henry's brother) and his wife Lisette and their three small children had the last one. Each cabin had two rooms, a bathroom, and a mini kitchen/living area. Bristol brought his things into the cabin and David told him which bed would be his.

The two cabins that housed the students consisted of a bedroom, a multiple person, dorm style bathroom and a small kitchenette, living area. The bedroom was lined with camp dorm sized, long twin beds and had three walk-in closets, all which had cubbies and clothes cupboards for each student. The only occupant of the cabin was one boy who was sleeping. David woke him up, and introduced him to Bristol.

"Call me Spot." Said Bristol, it was the first thing he had said to David, and it certainly wasn't pleasant.

The boy, whose name was Jack, was wearing a cowboy hat.

"Spot?" he said, he had heard about Bristol Conlon, he had been in the news the last couple of weeks.

"Yeah, Spot." Said Spot/Bristol now to be referred to as Spot, "You got a problem with that Cowboy."

Jack looked taken aback for a second, and was just about to say something when a girl walked in. Spot immediately recognized her as the girl he'd seen in the car. She had stunning eyes. The rest of her body, he wasn't so sure about. Not exactly the girls he was used to seeing. Of course, those weren't really girls, those were whores. She wasn't exactly skinny, actually, she looked really buff and muscular, she was wearing loose black jeans and a green t-shirt that said BrandNew across the front. He wouldn't exactly call her pretty, but, she had this quality he couldn't explain, and for some reason, he liked her.

"Jack." She said. She seemed like a quite girl, but one that could talk when the time came. "I need to talk to you."

"Bookey, I'm busy." Said Jack. It seemed to Spot that the two were not exactly best friends. "Plus, your not supposed to be in here."

"Jesus Jack, like anybody actually follows that rule, I need to talk to you, now." She said forcefully.

Jack rolled his eyes, but followed her out the door, telling David he'd catch up with him.

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Hello again! I received many reviews and answers to my casting call and I would like to thank everyone for doing that. I'm going to leave the CC open for a couple more days, however I'm not going to announce it in my summary anymore for fear of it being deleted because it might be an "interactive story". Sigh, I should argue that these rules are interfering with my artistic license. Damn the man save the Empire! Haha, okay, right, don't bite the hand that feeds you………STORY, yes, story, I'm getting to that. Here's what I need, and I'm sure you lovely readers will kindly help me with this. I NEED MORE MIXNERS! I can make them up myself, but I think it would be more fun if you guys did it! For you of course! Feel free to submit more then one character, I know a few people already have. I need some younger Mixners! Boys AND girls. Younger than the age of 12ish. I'll also still accept a couple delinquents so if your just tuning in on this story and really want to submit one that is awesome. Now, this is the last chapter that some of you might recognize from the old story….and the rest will be all new!

And as far as the already submitted characters, I am working on sorting through them. I've received loads of great characters and it will be a tough decision. I plan on introducing the characters slowly because I know it sometimes is hard to follow a story when all the characters are introduced at once. If I like your character but would like to use it in a unique way I'll send you an email making sure that's okay, and I'll try to let everyone know as soon as possible what kind of part they will have, and if you have any questions, just ask! Wow I'm talking a lot, okay.

One more thing! It has also been brought to my attention that it seems as if this plot line has been done before. However, I assure you all that I'm not trying to copy anyone, and as far as I know there are a few things I plan on throwing in here that to my knowledge have not been done before. I would appreciate it if you think my story line is running close to one you have read before that you tell me, and perhaps provide me with a link to the story so I could read it for myself to make sure I don't offend anyone.

Oh yes, and I guess I didn't make this exactly clear, but this isn't a normal boarding school….just incase anybody cares…….

Right! Thank you, and I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!


	3. Running is Not an Option

After Jack had exited the room David told Spot which bed would be his. Spot was also assigned a space in one of the closets that had already been marked with his name. Spot threw his trash bag of clothes into the cupboard without bothering to unpack anything. Looking at his skateboard uncertainly he turned to David.

"How do I know people aren't gonna try to take my shit?" Spot raised an eyebrow at him skeptically.

"Well we've only ever had problems with new kids stealing. So really, it's the rest of us that should be worried about you stealing our stuff," answered David as he avoided looking Spot in the eyes.

"Well I'll take that poster there, and all that shit above that dude's bed, don't much like anything else. And any CD I find lying around that I like I'll probably lift too," Spot said, pointing to different things around the room, "It's their fault for leaving it lying around, they're asking for it to be taken."

"That's not how things work around here," said a voice coming from behind them. Spot turned to see the boy named Jack had returned and was leaning casually against the doorway. He was tall and well built, his brown hair was arranged into a short emohawk and he wore khaki low riding shorts and a fitted red T-shirt. "You're not the only badass around here Conlon," Jack continued "you dish it out, you'll get it back, and don't think we don't know how to deal with people like you."

Spot gave Jack a challenging glare, but before he could say anything something inside his head started telling him that he needed to be alone as soon as possible. His breathing started speeding up involuntarily, he needed a fix, and quickly.

Taking advantage of the thick silence, David broke in.

"The wall space above your bed is yours to do whatever you want with, and if you're really worried about something getting taken I'm sure my dad can hold onto it for you or something."

"Whaddya mean do whatever I want with the wall?" asked Spot, trying to think of a quick way exit opportunity. He figured a cocky diversion would be the best way out. "Anything I want, like…..this?" He punched a hole through the plaster, right at the foot of the bed. Of course it hurt like hell, but Spot kept his eyes narrow and challenging, and his mouth still. He slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and across his chest while he, stalked passed David. His mouth slipped into a smirk as he gave Jack an obscene hand gesture as he passed him and exited into the afternoon sun. The heat was a little uncomfortable as he walked to the edge of a small forest he found on the edge of the academy's property. The property was surrounded by an old style, wrought iron fence. There was no barbed wire and there certainly weren't guards or watchdogs. Spot knew he could easily run away, but he also knew that he would be found. He would last a month, maybe two, but he had tried running before. Running never worked, and besides, it was a coward's way out.

He found a tree that provided a good amount of shade and sat down, leaning against the trunk and lighting up a cigarette. He pulled a canister of pills out of a hidden pocket in his messenger bag. Dumping the blue pills in his hand, he popped one his mouth before he began counting the rest. Counting them helped calm him while he waited for the drugs to take effect. Yes, counting was good.

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Okay, that was super short and I'm really sorry, but it's an update. It didn't accomplish all of what I wanted to put in there, but I have to stop.

My sister is leaving for college Tuesday and she's having a party and she's being a super bitch. So now I have to clean for her damn party. Sorry, I'm super pissed at her right now. And she really hurt my feelings, I've been being nice to her all week, I've been making dinner and doing the kitchen all week so she could pack and get ready and shit. And she's probably going to read this and get even matter but I don't even care. And I actually was starting to get sad that she's leaving and was thinking I was going to miss her. Whatever, sorry, I just couldn't keep writing, but I wanted to update for you all.

Hopefully I'll get in one more update before I leave. Because I leave on Tuesday and I'll be gone till September and probably won't be able to update. But I'll definitely be writing so that it will be easy to whip out chapters when I get back. Hope everybody has a good weekend. AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE CHARACTERS AND THE REVEIWS! Your characters will be introduced soon!

and AN's will be short to non-existent from now on! I PROMISE!


	4. People and Pigs

Spot relaxed into the tree. Feeling his nerves calm as the drug began to take affect. He couldn't believe this place. It was so out of his element, it even smelled weird. Everything smelled clean and fresh and full of life. He wasn't used to places that were clean. He closed his eyes, suddenly realizing he hadn't slept for two days, and was extremely tired. Spot hoped that maybe when he woke up it would all be a dream, or some sort of bad trip. He'd be back at the Simmon's, sleeping on their moldy smelling couch. Mr. Simmons would yell at him for skipping school and tell him he was on restriction, threatening they would call his social worker and have him taken away if he gave them any more trouble. Later that night he would sneak and get high, maybe hook-up with that girl he'd met at the skate park last weekend. Everything that had happened, the drugs, the dare, the boy, and the fire, the trial, the jail time, none of it would be true, it would all be a dream.

Spot had never been a hopeful kid. He had never been hopeful because he never seemed to get lucky. And this day proved to be just as unlucky as the rest of them. He woke up right back where he had fallen asleep. He heard a squealing noise, and the sound of a boy screaming in the distance. As he groggily opened his eyes he saw a large black blur run right in front of him. Following the black animal was the owner of the young voice. A little boy stumble over Spot's outstretched legs in an attempt to catch the animal. Before Spot even realized what was going on he grabbed the little boy's arm and stopped him from running off.

"What the hell are you doing?" croaked Spot, his voice still sleepy. The boy looked at him in terror, and started mumbling incoherently. It took Spot a moment to realize that he didn't even know the boy he was questioning. It had been a habit and a natural reaction. Spot had been treated like that when he was little, and that's how he had treated his little brothers and any other younger kids in his life. Where Spot came from, it was almost a kindness for the older children to bully and show dominance over the younger children. If they didn't, the younger generations wouldn't grow up tough enough.

Spot squinted his eyes against the sun as he stood up, loosening his grip on the ten-year-old boy.

"What are you chasing?" Spot asked, looking down at the boy with a questioning glare, after all, he was pretty pissed at the boy for disturbing his short lived sleep.

"Kirby. The pig, I left the door to his pen open on accident and," the boy looked over to where the pig was headed and his eyes opened wider then they already were. "Uh-oh" was all he said before tearing away from Spot and running through the tall grass. Spot looked and saw that a girl was painting a couple dozen yards away. He hadn't noticed her before, and the pig was headed straight for her, the little boy trying in vain to catch up with it. Spot laughed inwardly as the pig collided with the girl, sending her painting supplies everywhere. Spot decided to head towards the scene of destruction, partially because he was curious, and partially because the girl looked like she might be hot.

Upon reaching the scene the girl was screaming at the little boy, who looked as if he was trying hard not to laugh. The pig had ended its mad dash for freedom and was quietly basking in the sun. Snorting every once in awhile as it munched on some grass. The girl suddenly stopped her yelling when she noticed Spot and looked toward him with big brown eyes. She was covered comically in paint.

"You're the new kid, aren't you? Bristol Conlon?" She blurted out, before suddenly turning red and averting her eyes down toward the ground.

"Yeah, call me Spot." Spot answered offhandedly.

"You're a Conlon!" exclaimed the little boy in awe "Like, a REAL Conlon?"

"Yeah, I'm real," smirked Spot. This kid seemed to appreciate what his family had done for society.

"Are you gonna burn the house down?" The boy asked abruptly.

"Split!" Hissed the girl.

"What gives you a damn insane idea I'd do that?" Spot asked, absentmindedly chewing on the ring fixed to the right corner of his lower lip.

The little boy looked dumbfounded, and the girl looked nervous. There was an awkward silence. The boy, Split, he had been called, certainly could run fast. He had a mop of black hair and was little, even for a ten year old. The 15-year-old girl, who Spot would later learn was called Iodine, started to gather her paint supplies.

"We better get going," she supplied nervously, "get Kirby Split," She instructed, before turning and walking towards the huge building several yards away from them. He watched her walk away, her thin sandy hair falling onto her back. She was short and extremely skinny. Spot decided she wasn't as hot as he had first hoped. In fact, he thought she looked too young. But he liked the way she wouldn't look at him, it gave him an ego boost, knowing at least someone here was intimidated by him, unlike the cowboy had said.

Spot barely had enough time to pull out his lighter, preparing to light another cigarette, when a girl with soft brown hair walked up. She stood about 5'5" and didn't seem at all intimidated by Spot's presence.

"Your not allowed to smoke on the property, it causes cancer, your supposed to talk to Jeremiah about all your addictions to find a good reversal plan. He'll probably set up appointments with you soon. David probably told you all this, but I don't blame you if you weren't paying attention, he gets boring easily. I heard you punched a hole in the wall of the boy's cabin."

Spot stared at her, his mouth slightly open, cigarette box half open. He gave this strange girl a slight nod to answer her question, but lit the cigarette anyway.

"So," said the girl "Your names Bristol Conlon, but you go by Spot right?"

Spot nodded again, raising his eyebrows even further. He was surprised at how fast news seemed to travel in this place.

"Here, I'll show you around." She offered, "I don't think you got off to a good start with Davey"

"You mean the Walkin' Mouth?" Commented Spot

"Oh so you do talk!" She said, her sweet smile widening.

They had begun walking to the buildings that Iodine and Split had disappeared into moments before.

Spot stopped and looked her in the eyes.

"Who are you?" He asked, having no idea who he was talking to, and hating the lack of control.

He noticed a slight flinch within her facial features, 'that's more like it' he thought; loving the control he knew he possessed.

"Oh, um, Caitlynn Mixner." She said, squaring her broad shoulders and regaining composure. 'Another one of them' Spot thought, internally rolling his eyes, she looked younger than him, but not by too much.

"So what you gonna show me?" Spot asked skeptically.

"The gym, or, if you want to be technical, the 'Activities Complex'." She said simply before bouncing on.

As the name suggested the Activities Complex was the center of activity in this place. It was HUGE. The main entrance led into a full sized gym complete with basketball hoops and a volleyball court. Spot dully noticed that its only inhabitant was a short teenage girl sitting under one of the windows in a beam of sunlight, plugged into headphones, she didn't seem to notice them. Caitlynn showed him the door to the weight room, which was loaded with exercise machines. He couldn't even imagine how rich these Mixner people had to be. She led him through huge double doors to a room that was bursting with kids. It was a huge gymnastics center, including a large spring floor, a pit, and fifty million mats. There was also a dance floor surrounded by mirrors. Caitlynn seemed to notice how Spot shied away from all the people.

"Here, you'll meet everyone later, lets go back around and I'll show you the barn and the wood shop," she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him quickly back through the way they had come.

Spot released his arm from her as quickly as possible. After she had completed the tour, he asked if he could go back to the cabin and sleep. She said of course. Upon reaching it he was relieved to find it empty. He sat down on his bed and once again rifled through his messenger bag. Spot had the strangest feeling inside him. He couldn't place a name to it, but he certainly didn't like it. He had felt it before. He had felt it the first night after Dax was arrested. Before that night Spot had never fallen asleep knowing that Dax wouldn't be home later that night, if he wasn't home already, nagging at Spot to get his little ass in bed. Spot almost felt like crying. He hadn't cried since that night, his first night in a foster home. Instead, he found a clean needle, inserted it into his syringe, and found the vile of clear liquid.

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I'll be back in September, I promise. Please don't forget about me, and don't think I've forgotten about you. I leave in like four hours! GAH, I'm really nervous, but excited! And yes, my sister and I made up, for all those of you who are wondering! THANKS FOR THE REVEIWS………………all your characters will be introduced in the next couple of chapters. I didn't have time tonight, I need to get some sleep, but I already started writing them into the story, don't worry.


	5. Caden

"Should we wake him up or something?" asked Mush nervously.

"I wouldn't, he probably has a knife under his pillow or something," answered Kid Blink.

"Well someone should wake him up, he's probably hungry or something," Mush said uncertainly.

"Your too nice for your own good Mush. If he was hungry I'm sure he could wake himself up," spoke up Racetrack.

"Race, you gonna get undressed or something. Its bleeding hot out," cut in Blink.

"Not when you make it sound so dirty," Race said sarcastically. Blink was right though. It was awful hot to be sleeping in a hoodie.

"What's up with you Race, you've been tense all day," spoke the youngest of the Mixner children, Les.

"I'm about to sleep in the same room as that," Race motioned towards Spot's still form, "I say I have a right to be tense."

"Well I don't think he's that bad, once you get to know him," spoke the youngest of the group, Split.

"Split, having one conversation with him doesn't count as knowing him," interjected David. David always corrected people.

"Well I think we should wake him up too," Split retorted indignantly.

"He seems to have managed just fine so far, I say we leave him alone," answered Blink.

"Dude, have you seen the tattoo on his wrist? It's all freakish, I've never even seen that kind of gang sign," spoke up Pie Eater.

"Well I've seen it," Race said quietly, but loud enough to be heard.

"So have I. But I don't think it matter. Here's here now, so he'll just have to drop all that tough bastard shit and play by the rules, just like all of us," interjected Jack.

"It's a good thing he can't hear you through those headphones, cuz otherwise he'd prolly shank you in the face," said Split with a yawn as he crawled into his bed.

"I can hear you," spoke a voice that startled everyone. The voice belonged to Spot Conlon. "First of all, I'm not in the habit of shanking people in the face little dude," Spot said as he stood up and pulled off his headphones.

"Second, Hackie-boy, I'm not a bastard. I may be the son of a whore, but it was my father who claimed me, who owns me. Pop's real good with making sure he get's what's his." Spot pulled off his t-shirt.

"And thirdly, Higgins, I don't like Italians too much either."

Whether the audible gasp was because of Spot's knowledge of who Racetrack was or because as he turned around his back showed, no one will ever know. But on his back, the toned muscles were covered in a scrawling black design. Between his shoulder blades in thick gothic lettering was the name "Conlon".

Without a word Spot lay back on the bed and replaced his headphones. He proceeded to lay there with his eyes shut till all the boys has silently gotten into bed and turned off the lights. It was at least another hour before Spot sat up and reached under his bed for his messenger bag. Only one small boy witnessed what he proceeded to do.

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A bright light shined into Spot's eyes. His fist whipped out only to be stopped by a hand catching it. Spot's eyes then proceeded to snap his eyes open.

"Fuck," he moaned as slammed his eyes shut again, hoping what he saw was just a side effect of the drugs.

When the hand that had grabbed his fist began squeezing unbearably hard, Spot knew that he wasn't. He sat up and used his newly released hand to rub his temples. It wasn't until he swallowed the pills that had been handed to him that he looked up.

"I thought you were in jail," Spot said to the young man who had awakened him.

"I got out two weeks ago," replied his older brother.

Spot nodded his head, "And you came to see me?"

"Yeah," spoke the 19 year old, "a good thing too. I tracked down your last social worker, asshole, like all of 'em" Spot smirked at his brother's comment. "Anyways, he gave me the number to this place. The dude on the telephone told me you'd been asleep for near 30 of the 36 hours you'd been here. Good thing I showed up, they found what you had in your bag. They were ready to cart you off to a detox hospital."

Spot's eyes went wide. "They looked through my shit!" he yelled, leaping off the bed.

"Calm down little dude. He's not gonna take anything," his brother spoke in a calming voice as he held Spot's shoulders.

"Like hell he's not gonna take anything! They all take it, and they're all to shitheaded to realize that I can't just stop the shit!" Spot braced against his brother's hands.

"Bristol, chill! I talked to the man. He hasn't taken any of it. Hell, I saw it, where'd you get some of that shit? I've got half a mind to take it from you."

"Fuck right Caden!" answered Spot.

"Bristol, go clean yourself up," Caden ordered sternly.

"Go screw your mother Caden," spat Spot, only to gasp in pain as Caden grabbed the metal spike running through Spot's right nipple, twisting it sharply.

"Kid, I don't know what you think you are, but it seems as if you've forgotten your place in life. You have been away from the crew for too long. Hm Spotty-boy? When's the last time you visited Him? Shower. Now," Caden released Spot and shoved him towards the doors to the showers.

Spot reached under his bed and grabbed his bag before turning away from his brother.

"When your done we'll talk and I'll decide whether I'm gonna give your sorry excuse for an ass the beating it deserves," spoke Caden after him.

Spot flicked him the bird without turning around. Caden, without changing the calm expression on his face, slipped off one of his leather boots and chucked it at Spot, hitting him on his right shoulder. Spot stopped in his tracks and a foul curse eased loudly out of his mouth. However, he simply rolled the sting out of his shoulder and walked into the shower room, slamming the door behind him. The five pairs of eyes that were in the room turned to Caden, to see what he would do. He simply sat down on Spot's bed and started chewing on one of his lip rings, the same nervous habit Spot had.

"We need to talk," he said to Denton and Jeremiah Mixner.

"Boys, clear out, you can tell everyone that everything is fine," spoke Jeremiah, who everyone referred to as 'The Old Man' using the Navy's term for ship admirals. David, Jack, and stalking behind them, Skittery, all left the cabin silently.

"You think we'll break him?" Jack spoke to David when they reached the afternoon sunlight.

"Who, Skittery?" David asked, starring at the hunched figure walking towards the girls cabin.

"No, the Conlon kid dumbass," said Jack.

"Ha, I don't know why we're even trying. Look at his brother. And Denton says that one has the least scarred record of the whole family except for the real little kids," answered David.

Meanwhile, Skittery walked around the girls cabin and knocked on one of the windows. Bookey slid it open for him and he crawled though. It was only occupied by Bookey, Scamley, and a girl called Irish. Autopilot Off was emitting from a stereo next to Bookey's bed.

"So did they get him up?" asked Irish.

"Yeah, you should a seen it, it was fairly entertaining," answered Skittery.

"Skitts, the only thing you find entertaining is snogging with my sister," spoke up Bookey.

"Shut it, that's not the only thing we do, I told you yesterday," argued Scamley.

"Whatever," interjected Irish, "its getting so sickening that I have to force myself to remove you from my line of sight. Which means I have to go where other people are, which makes me angry."

"I hate people," agreed Bookey.

"You hate everything," said Skittery.

"Dude, look who's talking. You must be taking crazy pills again," Bookey playfully argued.

"Bookey dearest, you're the only one in this room who takes crazy pills," said Scamley matter-of-factly.

"Whatever, Skitts is a wanker, end of story," said Bookey, her opaque blue eyes lighting up.

"What! You little shit!" said Skittery incredulously.

"Whoa, whoa!" cut in Irish, "How the hell did we get on the subject of what Skittery does when he's alone?"

"Who says he has to be alone?" asked Scamley while Skittery just sat on a bed with his mouth hanging open.

"AAAAAAAHHHHH!" yelled Bookey covering her ears and switching her gaze between Skittery and Scamley.

"You brought it up!" laughed Scamley.

"Dude! You're my sister! I don't wanna hear that! That's just wrong! Not even kosher! AAAHHH! I'm just gonna leave now, you kids need to find some supervision or something!" Bookey continued to mumble about how disturb she was as she got up and left the room.

Irish and Scamley meanwhile could barely breath for laughing, while Skittery sat sulking, wondering how on earth he had become the subject of such conversation.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Back in the boy's cabin, Caden had started a little chat with the men who were now in charge of his little brother's life.

"Thank you for coming," spoke Jeremiah, "we really were at a loss for what to do. Its natural for the children who get sent here to be resistant at first, but we've never had something like this happened."

Caden laughed inwardly. His brother was far from being a "child".

"I'm not surprised really," said Caden, "In fact, I probably would have pulled the same thing."

"Why?" was all Denton asked.

"It's simple really. He's scared. Of course, he'd never admit that to you, but he's completely out of his element. This isn't Us, this isn't Juvie, and this certainly isn't the regular run down foster home that is so scared of him they can't even look him in the eye. From what I can see, you people could care less that his name is Conlon."

"Wait," cut in Denton, "What do you mean 'This isn't Us?'"

"Us, the family, his brothers, his cousins, his uncles, our father," answered Caden.

Denton continued to stare at him skeptically as he went on.

"He's been stuck through hundreds of homes ever since he got taken away from Us, and they all gave up on him. Gave up on him pretty damn quickly. Of course, I suppose he gave them good reason, little piece of hell that he is. But see, what I want to know is why, for some godly reason, you people have decided to give him one last chance?"

"He's only sixteen years old, hopefully it won't be his last chance," spoke up Jeremiah, "Our philosophy here is that with love and understanding, even children who have been given nothing, can be made into something."

"Well if you think you can do it, props to you mister, but let me tell you something, you can't just pull this kid into a hug. He's never had one and he doesn't want one. He's a special kid though, and if you want to try and 'fix' him or whatever it is that you do here, be my guest. I couldn't stop you if I wanted to," finished Caden.

"I'm not sure if 'fix' is the right term," said Jeremiah, "but we will try to help him. And we can help you too. You said you just got out of jail, do you have any place to go?"

"Oh I'll figure something out, I'm not here to discuss my future."

"Well, maybe you could stay here. We could give you a job, there's plenty to do. And you can help us with Bristol, I'm guessing you know him better than anyone," offered Jeremiah.

"Oh no, I wouldn't say I know him best, that's Dax's department. He's grown up so much, he's not the same kid who I used to make steal cigarettes for me," a hint of nostalgia played across Caden's face and his voice grew quieter, "no, things are different then they used to be, but I'll stick around if you want, at least until I find something else."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

So people, what do you think? It's September and I'm back! (Yeah, yeah September's almost over…….I'm sorry)

I got a couple characters in, and there will be even more in the next chapter. And this stands for all future chapters….if I'm portraying your character wrong, PLEASE TELL ME!

And review! I love you all!


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